


eat me please

by blueaces



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Horror, Gore, M/M, Sexual Content, Theme Day: Demons and Possession, also so much less serious than it sounds, apparently this is just a thirst fic for doyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 10:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaces/pseuds/blueaces
Summary: What does Taeil got to do to get some good food around here for the little entity hiding beneath the zipper in his abdomen?





	eat me please

**Author's Note:**

> no thoughts, head empty  
also unedited, will be back later

Living with Dejun permanently in the walls of his stomach was like venturing into an innocuous looking lake and stepping out with a leech’s teeth stuck into his leg. Except this leech couldn’t be removed by the bed of a fingernail and was actually decent enough company.

_Decent enough? That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me._

The quaking of his small intestine tells Taeil there were more than likely sniffles coming out of Dejun’s incorporeal nostrils. Not an uncomfortable sensation since it wasn’t the first time Taeil felt Dejun on the verge of tears. For an immortal being who craved human tissue, Dejun was oddly sensitive.

_I could kill you for that._

“Do it. When will you ever find a better host than me?”

Annoyed, Dejun grumbles, but he doesn’t start picking at Taeil’s esophagus to try and make him gag, so Taeil takes that as a good sign and continues on with his day. Their office was supposed to meet their new boss today, the last one getting accused for money laundering and skipping town the moment the police were knocking on his door. Rumor had it the new boss was from one of the bigger cities and also “extremely hot” as Yuta put it (he was the one who initially interviewed him over Skype and raved about him for days) and the old one kind of sucked at being a person, so the office didn’t mind the change too much.

Scratching the zipper stretching from under his sternum to the last floating left rib through his unbuttoned blazer, he sets off up the stairs to the large boardroom reserved for such meetings. His cubicle buddy, Johnny, is already present, the seat next to him empty. Johnny gestures to it in a sweeping arc of his arm, and Taeil gratefully accepts it. The room is almost full, the entire floor here to properly meet the man being spoken so highly about. Across the table, Taeyong elbows Yuta to whisper something to him but is cut short by the knocking on the door.

The politeness and anticipation shocks everyone into silence, the door opening to reveal, in Taeil’s honest opinion, a very handsome man. As he walks to the head of the table, Johnny kicks Taeil in the shin, probably to voice the same thoughts as his own. Taeil can’t do anything to retaliate because in the next second, the man starts speaking.

“I’m Kim Doyoung, and as of today, I’ll be taking over the position Mr. Kwon left open.” The rest of Doyoung’s words drown out suddenly, becoming warbles to Taeil. He can only focus on the handkerchief peeking out of Doyoung’s front pocket as his vision tilts, and he tries to reign himself in.

When Dejun starts screaming _flesh!_ constantly, it's hard to ignore the instinct to shove the knife tucked away in his pocket into the next person's throat. But Taeil would rather not kill his boss on his first day. It’d be a terrible way to introduce him to the office.

In the brief minutes it takes Doyoung to finish his prepared speech and release them from the room, Dejun has reduced his screaming to growls, aggravated about why he isn’t chomping onto some bones by now. Johnny takes notice of the twist in his face, raising his eyebrows in question. Taeil waves him off, and Dejun is considerate enough to wait until Johnny rounds the corner before he yanks on his insides erratically, leading him to a nearby empty storage closet, Taeil stumbling in an effort to balance himself. The shelf containing office supplies steadies him, ignoring the loose staples someone spilled digging into the palm of his hand.

If Taeil could feel Dejun licking his metaphorical lips, he’d be doing so as he talks.

_5'10", about 130lbs give or take, luscious black hair and pretty skin. Can we eat him?_

Unsticking the staples from his clammy palms, he wishes he could dig them into his stomach for Dejun to feel. Without pain, of course. "I hate how scarily accurate you are. And hands off. He's my new boss."

_But I want to tasteeeee. _

Taeil holds back the urge to roll his eyes. Did he mention Dejun was oddly fucking needy when it came to food. “No tasting, I’m trying to get paid.”

He feels Dejun pouting into the curve of his stomach, and he knows he's trying to think of a better way to dig his teeth into Doyoung's skin. In the time it takes for Dejun to speak again, Taeil's been able to center himself, putting one foot in front of the other like a normal human being.

_Could you get him alone?_

God, if Taeil could fight a disembodied entity, he would right here and right now. Balling his hands into fists, he pulls them into his side, legs spread with the right one slightly forward. “And tell him what? ‘Hey there’s a person inside of me going absolutely feral for a bite of your flesh, can I take a piece so he can shut up?’ I don’t fucking think so.”

Instead of the retort usually ready for Taeil and his attitude, there’s a rumbling of his stomach telling him of something to come, and that something strolls into the storage closet five seconds later in the form of Doyoung. He blinks to adjust his eyes to the dimmer light, then focuses his gaze on Taeil standing in the middle of the room with his limbs spread out in a battle stance.

"Am I... interrupting something?" Doyoung is staring at him like he's holding up a giant sign that says _BIG LOSER_, and Taeil wants to die on the spot. _We can have that arranged_ Dejun whispers conspiratorially as if Doyoung could hear inside of Taeil's body. Choosing to ignore him like Taeil usually does, he hastily fixes his position, going over to the bright yellow highlighter box in front of him.

"Mhm just where I thought they would be." He fakes a double glance at Doyoung still standing by the door. "Oh! Mr. Kim, I didn't see you there." Dejun helpfully pulls on his diaphragm to stutter out a stiff laugh.

Thankfully, Doyoung seems amused by Taeil's theatrics. He's trying to not be the first person Doyoung fires. "You didn't see me when you were clearly looking dead at me." Dejun's tittering at the use of the word dead forces a semi-believable laugh out of him, Doyoung following with one of his own. It rings in Taeil's ears, and Dejun hoots, jiggling his entire digestive system.

"What's your name?" Doyoung's gums pop out when he smiles, and Taeil is ready to hurdle himself into the fucking sun for already being so endeared. How’s he going to tell his mom his first interaction with his boss was in the gloomy glow of the storage closet at work and get around the fact Dejun wants to have him between his teeth?

"Moon Taeil. I work in budgeting," he grits out, mortified at his overworking and outrageously homosexual mind.

Doyoung’s smile settles into a lopsided smirk. "Well Taeil from budgeting, I hope the next time we cross paths, you see me first." He makes his way around Taeil, smoothly grabbing a packet of printer paper. “And there’s no need for honorifics. Doyoung is fine.” Doyoung exits but not before blatantly checking him out, eyes lingering on the way his suit cinches at his waist.

Next to highlighters and printer paper is not where Taeil thought he’d be having his weekly breakdown, his mind whirring like the old dial up on computers. Taeil has known Doyoung for approximately the amount of time it takes to choke down a pint of ice cream, and yet he’s been reduced to a shell of a man. Dejun piping up (_For some odd reason — call it an old man’s intuition — but I don’t think he would mind sharing his meat too much.) _doesn’t make him feel any better.

-

Taeil’s known Dejun for as long as he can remember. He was born without the zipper, as the previous host hadn’t died at the time yet. The pain hits when he’s in school, barely able to multiple single digit numbers, a burning slicing movement stretching across his abdomen making him place his feverish head on the cool desk. At the time, little Taeil hadn’t known what hit him, and the concerned nurse had sent him with an ice pack stuck to his belly. It’s as he sits shirtless on the tub in his parent’s bathroom, his father bandaging the long gash and the skin slightly curling outwards. He bandages not because it’s bleeding out, but because the blood is slowly being sucked inwards, beading to the surface to then be taken in again.

It’s a necessity, his father tells him, or else the entity now residing inside of him would start to eat away at the open flesh around the gash before consuming the rest of him. And Taeil sits, with the ridges of the tub digging into the back of his knees, staring at his father who’s unfolding such a key piece of who Taeil will become as he ages. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t kick and scream demanding this all to be a fabrication, a gruesome fairytale with a dreaded ending. Instead, he gingerly pats the middle of the gash, and there’s an impact from within, the first response of the entity.

The zipper follows later, the thin strips of cloth sewn to his skin by his teary eyed mother, her sniffles intensifying every time he flinched as the needle punctured through. To distract him, she explains the origins of the entity, birthed at the hands of a witch scorned by the village she sought to protect. One spell gone awry and they turn their back on her, shunning her to the deepest parts of the forest. Retribution comes to the sole man who made the final decision, a bloodthirsty curse upon his family for as long as the line goes on. It will skip generations, depending if the current host is still alive when there is a newborn, but will go straight to the youngest male soon after the death occurs.

There is the question of what exactly bloodthirsty means, and his mother dabs antiseptic at the holes dotting his stomach, face twisting distastefully.

“No need to worry about it Illie, we’ll take care of it. Okay, sweetie?” His mother pokes his chest and gathers her supplies to leave Taeil lying in his bed staring up at the fan steadily rotating, the dampness cooling on his skin.

He comes to find that bloodthirsty means piles of red meat unlike any he had ever seen disappearing into the zipper periodically, thankfully not having to pass through his own lips. There is always the smell afterwards, metallic and _raw,_ but he prefers it to the would-be iron on his tongue, blood seeping into every gum and tooth crevice. Taeil never asked his parents where they were procuring human parts from, and they never told him either.

The first words are heard whenever he’s at Sicheng’s sleepover in third grade, grabbing a brownie from the kitchen while everyone huddles around the TV playing a superhero movie Taeil is not too interested in.

_You’re so quiet. I like that._

The brownie drops with a squeak from Taeil, crumbs flying all on the floor. He drops to the ground, avoiding Sicheng’s questioning glance, and gather the crumbs in his hands while he whispers, “Hello? Is that you?”

_Of course it’s me. You know, I’d still eat that brownie. Five second rule._

“What-“

_Plus, the chocolatey residue is so good! Please eat it or cover my next meal in chocolate. Your choice._

Taeil shivers at the thought of chocolate coated human meat, and roughly shoves what’s left of the brownie in his mouth to avoid ever having to do that. It goes down hard, but the entity hums, satisfied. He wants to ask for its name, but Sicheng is stepping into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, and Taeil can only guess what he must look like: kneeling on the floor with chocolate on his upper lip and his eyes glazed over.

Needless to say, Taeil doesn’t get invited to anymore sleepovers.

He talks aloud to Dejun (he told Taeil his name after his mom comes to pick him up the morning after the sleepover) at first until he discovers he could form a thought and Dejun would hear him. Taeil prefers to speak verbally with him, but if the time calls for it —when he’s out in public so people won’t look at him funny when he ask Dejun if he tumbles around in there as Taeil walks— he’ll just think the words instead.

Growing up with Dejun wasn’t the easiest, but it wasn’t the hardiest either. When emotions were hard to put into sensible words, he had someone privy to his mind, thinking about how he wasn’t able to make friends when the smell of death hovered around him for days after a feeding. Dejun offers solace, as best as his ancient brain will let him.

_I’m your friend. The friend that is the reason you can’t make friends of solid matter, but I’m your friend._

And Taeil does find comfort in it, until he moves out to finally be responsible, and he doesn’t know how to feed Dejun. The notion of having to kill a person, a person with a family and friends and a life, makes Taeil want to vomit out Dejun if he could. But he knows if he doesn’t feed Dejun, he will start to feed off of Taeil’s own energy before he turns on to his body, and there would be nothing else he could do to stop it.

_Usually my hosts don’t question the need to kill for me. Your morally conscious mind is appetizing._

So, Taeil ends up experimenting with dead bodies, from years to only weeks old, to see if it satisfied Dejun. It’s the only thing he could think of, seeing as he already knew regular animal meat didn’t work without making Dejun sick. Sneaking into the graveyard to dig up and disturb resting people wasn’t his idea of a Friday night, especially when it turns out to be a major bust.

_She tastes like sour berries and despair. _

Taeil throws in another piece carved from the arm of the elderly man in the grave next to her, not too old, but not too fresh either. “And him?”

_Terrible. God awful. Also toenails._

Grimacing, Taeil covers the grave back with dirt and makes to move over to the next plot, one of a much younger man. “Gross.” The tombstone reads his birth year and the current year, meaning the man would’ve been the same age as Taeil if he hadn’t passed two weeks ago. It unsettles him to see such a close date. Maybe he was someone from his high school or maybe they lived in the same neighborhood without the other knowing. Before he can spiral any further, Dejun interrupts his thoughts, having sensed the beginnings of the turmoil.

_This is going nowhere. Dead humans equal nastiness. Now can you please get me some real food, I’m trying to survive here._

Taeil shakes his head and skips the grave entirely. The deceased was at the end of the row, near the spiked fence Taeil jumped over. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who will actually die.”

Dejun does the equivalent of a shrug in his stomach. _You got me there. If I don’t eat, you die, and I move on to the next one. No foul for me, but for you? Yeah._

“I’m not going to become a murderer because of this.” Taeil begins to climb the fence, already giving up after delving through numerous graves with the small hope snuffed out that maybe, one piece will leave Dejun content enough to pacify him. The bastard just had to be picky.

_Your parents did. They did it to keep their son alive._

And Taeil can’t find it within himself to argue with that.

Fast forward to today, where Taeil sprawls on the couch attempting to read Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_ for the nth time, while Dejun complains hard enough for Taeil’s entire body to vibrate uncontrollably.

_Hunger!_

The word alone shakes Taeil stronger than usual. The next ones don’t do Taeil any favors in the temptation department either.

_Doyoung… Doyoung… Oh what would it be to relish in his flavor, to savor the frightful look on his face as he loses himself to my mouth, bit by bit. But alas, they took my fucking eyes _Dejun slowly says, emphasizing each syllable.

Placing the book upside down on the armrest, Taeil stretches his arms above his head, sighing. "Look-" _I can't look!_ "-I'm sorry, but we both didn't get the better end of the stick here."

_I miss having a body. I wish that damned witch didn’t have to throw me into some misogynistic man for revenge. Now, see what I’ve been reduced to! I used to be able to just eat people at will, not relying on some sod who sits at home all day._

Taeil makes a noise of indignance at the back of his throat. “Hey, I listen when you ask.”

_When I physically pull on your ears, yeah._

Taeil glances over at his hiking boots and the knife lying on the table by the door. “I’ll go hunting tonight, okay? Just shut up about Doyoung.”

_Mm, does that bother you? Make you a little… excited?_

“I’m not indulging you with an answer.” Dejun snickers, and Taeil tries to resume his book until the sun starts the set, but he keeps reading the same line over and over again since Dejun started scraping at the bottom of his stomach. It’s not that it hurts, it’s just distracting, almost as if he’s the one who’s hungry even if he ate his own meal an hour ago.

With the sun finally low enough in the sky, Taeil tugging on his boots elicits an eager exclamation from Dejun that sounds more like gurgling noises, tucks the knife into his back pocket and heads towards the mountain side near the front of the city. In the parking lot of the park at the base of the mountain is where he begins his stakeout, sunglasses on and earbuds in as he leans against his car. It’s the air of someone who’s waiting for their friend to show up, but behind the shade of the dark glasses, he watches everyone entering the different trails up into the mountain.

He almost never goes onto the easier routes, too populated to make a kill unnoticed. The families go on those routes, and Taeil tends to stay away from them. He won’t be the reason a family is torn apart. It’s better if the person is alone when he goes after them, the unknown lighter on his conscious.

Not many people are out this late, more going out than in. They scurry away, chasing the sun in their cars back home. No one wants to be on a mountain when it’s dark, the threat of animals and people like himself keeping them at bay.

_Him._

Taeil scans the area until he sees a young woman marching into one of the difficult trails alone, jogging gear on. A couple of minutes later, a man follows, dressed in an attire not made for making those sorts of treks. Both Taeil and Dejun know what he’s after, even if Dejun was without his strange sixth sense, it wasn’t hard to discern actions such as those. Taeil sets off after them, hoping he can reach in time to avoid a confrontation with the woman, but deep enough into the thick woods that Taeil can kill in relative peace.

The trail is empty for some time, Taeil wondering how they managed to travel the steep incline so fast while he struggles to catch up. Gritty sand crunches underneath his boots, too loud for his liking in the soft rustling of the trees. Dejun bristles at every step, the anticipation of the chase making the primal urges larger.

Taeil comes to a stop a few meters behind a figure pacing in front of a fork in the path. He’s muttering, frustrated at the loss of the woman. Fleeing into the shadows provided by the woods, Taeil crouches and crawls closer, being careful of snapping sticks or crunching leaves. From his viewpoint, the man appears burly even with the heavy jacket half off his shoulders, but nothing Taeil hasn’t dealt with before. 

He inches out when the man faces the left fork, fingers pulling at his hair, occupied, and Taeil wraps an arm around his throat effortlessly, pressing his bicep and forearm into the sides. “You made this so easy for me,” he whispers into the shell of the man’s ear, avoiding the headbutt coming his way as if he was dodging a fly.

“Who the fuck are you?” His breath reeks of alcohol, and Taeil tuts at him. No wonder he wasn’t struggling as much as they usually do. But it didn’t matter to him. Under the influence or not, the intentions were still there. Dejun could use a nice buzz anyways.

“I don’t like predators.” The irony isn’t lost on him as he swiftly brings his knife out and slits the man’s throat open, blood gushing onto his clothes. He drops in Taeil’s hold, Taeil clamping his hand over his neck in an attempt to stop some of the blood flow from spilling to the ground. It’s over as quickly as it started, much to his delight. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he heaves the man back into the woods where he was previously hiding and begins the slow process of finding a place far away from the main path to go undisrupted.

There’s not much fear about the police finding him out. Dejun eats nearly the entirety of the corpses, the bones left behind scattered in whatever area they have chosen to be in, so it looks as if animals were responsible. He makes sure he’s never seen with the victim, no connections to them whatsoever, and has his mother as the alibi if it ever went that far. Thankfully, it never has, but she made him promise to use them if the time called for it, so willing to take the brunt of his fall.

Shredding a person to pieces has become almost therapeutic. It practically has to be or else Taeil will lose his god damn mind. Each cut is methodical, starting from the face so he doesn’t have it staring at him the whole time, to the arms and the torso, and the legs for last. He’s learned to be precise, to avoid blood spatters and the complaints of Dejun for wasting – in his words — such precious matter. His hands don’t tremble anymore as he feeds the strips to Dejun, the zipper wide open for them to slip into.

The legs are the only parts left, the upper half of the body nothing but dripping ligaments and bone and frayed fibers, grated at to appeared gnawed on. A semi-demolished carcass is something uncanny to behold, the section of thighs now the thickest with a peeled spine sticking in between them. Taeil barely pierces the skin before he hears rustling to his left, effectively stopping his hand. It sounds heavier than the regular forest animals roaming the land, and he has to breathe twice to peer in the distance, squinting in the fading light. No one wanders this deep into the forest, dense trees preventing the already steep climb from being enjoyable to the common person. Apparently, Doyoung was not common.

Out of all the people in the damn city. Who fucking takes a hike when night is almost upon them? Taeil swears out loud, dragging the body away from the path Doyoung was taking towards them. There’s a multitude of bushes big enough to hide the remains of the man, and he throws him in them, arranging the branches to adequately cover him.

Thrusting his hand into the cavity of his abdomen, the blood glides off as Dejun greedily sucks it into his own being. He zips up the zipper despite the little _hey!_ Dejun shouts and kicks up dirt on his way back to where Doyoung should already be.

Doyoung hasn’t noticed him yet, too preoccupied with the vultures devouring a deer, the white spots on its hind speckled with gore. Taeil watches a vulture tug on the deer’s intestines until it rips, blood flung on the floor near Doyoung’s shoes. He takes in the rest of his outfit from there, a sleeveless shirt showing off well-toned arms and tight shorts that cup his ass beautifully.

Doyoung walking around town in shorts like that should be a sin, and with his abysmal lack of brain to mouth filter, he lets out, “You have… really great legs.”

_Can they go in my mouth? Can they PLEASE go in my mouth?_

“_Quiet, you just ate,”_ Taeil thinks, hoping the urgency to stay calm in front of Doyoung is felt.

His voice startles Doyoung out of whatever musings the scene before them had him in. For a second, there’s only the squelching of the deer’s inside being rummaged about by the vultures’ beaks, then Doyoung recognizes Taeil, raising a hand in greeting.

“It’s the squats. They do wonders.” Doyoung extends a leg towards Taeil, twisting and turning it as he waves his hand over it. Dejun whistles at the display, causing his cheeks to heat up. Taeil discreetly steps out of the remaining light slipping through the cracks in the tree canopy to hide the flames growing on his face.

Tilting his head back to observe the sky, he responds coolly, or at least tries to, “It’s getting quite dark out. What’s a man like yourself doing out in these parts?”

Taeil returns his gaze back to Doyoung already admiring his neck. When Doyoung meets his eyes, there’s a challenge in his own, like he’s waiting for Taeil to say something about it. “I could ask you the same thing. But if you must know, I’m exploring. Haven’t been able to see much of the city yet, so here I am!” He extends both arms this time in a wide gesture, directing their attention back to the last feasting vulture. It must notice the audience it has gained, for it stops pecking at the stringy meat leftover on the ribs of the deer. The vulture screeches at them annoyed, putting its back towards them before it continues to clean the bones off.

Doyoung smiles, stepping away to give the vulture its space. “I don’t think they are too happy we are here.”

_I wouldn’t want someone to watch me eat either._

_“I technically watch you eat,”_ Taeil replies to Dejun, falling in step with Doyoung back towards where he had come from.

_That’s different and you know it. You’re literally the one who feeds me._

Taeil rakes a hand through his hair, prepared to retort with some obvious statement, but then Doyoung is gasping, stopping Taeil by grasping on to his arm.

“Oh god, are you alright?” He asks, and Taeil looks down in the direction of Doyoung’s gaping, seeing the blood not his own crisscrossing over his wrist. _Fuck_.

_Looks like I missed a spot._

“Uhh…” Taeil responds intelligently before Dejun quite literally knocks some sense into him by gripping onto his liver hard. “I mean, it’s fine! I got stuck in one of those holly shrubs back there. Those have some nasty thorns on them.”

Doyoung abruptly takes his hand, examining it sharply. “They do. I can’t seem to make out any scratches though…” Doyoung’s hands were delicate against his, the skin silky compared to the building roughness of scars stacking up from handling bodies in less than ideal conditions and nicks from his knife when his mind would stray. He’s very aware of where Doyoung’s thumb lies, atop a recently healed wound still pink and shiny, the one caused by Dejun’s impatient bouncing inside of him while he was making the initial slice into the last victim a month before.

It’s the contrasting sensations and the habits they were formed by that demands he wrest his hand away. Not unkindly, but with a force Doyoung doesn’t miss as he drops his hands to his side, limp and rejected.

There’s a chance Taeil is panicking (_you are panicking _Dejun supplies rather unhelpfully), and he tries to conjure up some type of plan that doesn’t sound too feeble. In order to get out of this increasingly more strained (at least from his side) situation, Taeil pats his back pockets, feigning a search for his phone and also using it as an excuse to hide his hand. “Damn, I must’ve dropped my phone somewhere where I was. I’mmm going to go look for it!”

Doyoung doesn’t question the sudden change in direction, if he even heeded it. “Won’t you need any help?”

In theory, it would be nice to amble about the mountain in the black of the night with Doyoung, nothing illuminating their path but the stars and the glow of their phones. But he can only envision Doyoung stumbling upon a body half destroyed, a hand covering his mouth in horror. “No, no! You get home before you won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face. I got this!” Taeil shoos him away, Doyoung looking warily between the darkening sky and Taeil and his flailing arms. Taeil nods furiously, assuring him nonverbally again, and Doyoung appears like he might argue, but then decides against it, biding Taeil farewell with an “_enjoy the rest of your weekend.”_

Taeil waits until he can’t hear his movements before scrambling to the huddle of bushes, the body in the same condition he left it in, save for the flies beginning to be attracted to it. Immediately, he gets back to business, slashing at the legs frantically out of anxiety. He can’t chance another run it, whether it be Doyoung returning for some reason or another person so unlucky to sneak up on them.

_Why won’t you just tell him?_

Dejun had been eating the leftovers without a word, the toes entering nail and all, but with Taeil’s mind going a mile a minute, not one thought staying for longer than he can tolerate, Dejun does what he does best: strives to break through the veil casting over Taeil from time to time.

“I don’t want to scare him off,” he mumbles, tearing the ligaments between the major bones, the pop harsh in his ears.

_That never stopped you before._

Curse Dejun and his stupid, stupid truth. But he can’t be bothered to worry about a matter such as this right now. Taeil has a body to properly dispose of.

-

“I’d like to invite you over for dinner this Friday.”

Taeil has been actively avoiding Doyoung, walking in the opposite direction when they happen to be headed towards each other, staying in the bathroom stalls when he hears a cough that resembles Doyoung’s, choosing to eat his lunch at his cubicle or going out with Johnny instead of mingling in the break room. It’s gotten to the point where Johnny has asked if something is going on between them, which he vehemently denied with noodles hanging from his mouth.

“You know, even Taeyong has asked me if you guys fucked and dumped. Do you understand how transparent you have to be acting for _Taeyong_ to notice? Yuta’s been flirting with him for months, and he still hasn’t realized.” Johnny had leaned over the table to pull on one of the noodles, and then proceeded to throw it at his face. “If you want my advice-“

“I don’t.” Taeil interrupted, wiping the sauce off his cheek and flicking it towards Johnny.

“- I suggest that if you have not fucked or been fucked, you should probably do so before the entire office is knocking down my proverbial door to ask me about the sexual tension instead of you since we all know getting you to talk is like pulling teeth,” he continued, sipping on his coke through a straw with a pointed look.

Okay, so Johnny might be right, and maybe it leads Taeil to floundering at the printer machine in document control at the sight of Doyoung, tall and poised, sauntering closer with a giant stack of papers in his arms. He had had to replace the ink cartridges with new ones, costing him precious minutes when he could’ve been holed up in his sector of the building. But Doyoung is nodding at him and his ink stained fingers, the tiny earring on his right ear swinging and catching the pale office lights, and Taeil utters one of the more appropriate sentences that had been bounding about in his head.

_Mm… dinner_.

“_Not the dinner you have in mind, Dejun_,” Taeil says, releasing his job in the queue and hoping the seventy-five pages prints out at lightning speed.

Doyoung sets the stack of papers on the table next to the printer with a thud, placing a hand on his hip as he answers Taeil. “As business partners who don’t avoid each other or as people who want to fuck?” His bold words make Taeil slam his hand on the printer, a small _eek! _escaping him. Luckily, the room is empty save for an intern named Jisung in the far corner, who doesn’t even glance up at the commotion, too focused on whatever was on his computer. Taeil silently thanks the influx of Gen Z kids into the office for not being as nosy as his millennial coworkers.

“Both?” Taeil states as a question, but rushes to fix it at Doyoung’s lack of an answer. “Both. Both is good.”

Page twenty-nine has barely entered the output tray, and Taeil wants to scream. Either Doyoung can obviously see his inner crisis or he has his own ulterior motives because he’s laying a hand on Taeil’s shoulder, his suit blocking the warmth of his hand from seeping through.

A coy smile comes to play on his lips. “I’ll agree to this dinner, if that’s what we’re going to call it, but only if you know business and personal issues will not cross as long as I’m the overseer here. Is that clear?”

Taeil nods quickly, unable to comprehend that this, whatever exactly that may entail, was going to happen. Doyoung’s smile grows, and he’s leaning in so fast, the breath catches in his throat. Taeil thinks he hears a little squeak from behind them. “Excellent. See you then, Taeil.” His breath is hot on his ear, but Taeil shivers with anticipation, his toes curling in his loafers. 

Picking up the disregarded stack of papers, Doyoung leaves without using the printer, and a curious glance at the papers in his arms shows they are completely blank. Taeil is left standing stock still, the beeping of the printer finishing its job jerking him back to reality. He collects his papers, forgoing stapling to scuttle back to his desk. Jisung has his head ducked down when he passes by him to exit document control, but Taeil doesn’t miss the red of awkwardness on the back of his neck, his hand flying up to his own neck. _You and me both, buddy_.

_What do you mean! Taeil! Look at you! Getting a date and shit! I’m so proud of youuuwuwu._

Taeil can’t tell if Dejun is mocking him or being genuine, so he gives the zipper a hefty pinch through his shirt, causing Dejun to yelp. The grip on his papers loosens as Dejun rams himself into the front of his abdomen, but his hold on them tightens before he can make a mess in the middle of the hallway and trudges back to his cubicle to disappear for the remainder of his shift.

Friday is upon them in an instant, Taeil having almost no time to think things through. The day in the office passes in a blur of numbers that fly right over his head, and the amount of times Johnny kicks his chair to get his attention. The next thing Taeil knows, he’s home and cooking dishes he’s never heard of, zooming through the kitchen like it was muscle memory.

_Don’t ever say I’ve never helped you._

Letting Dejun take control, knowingly or unknowingly, wasn’t anything new, and he’s relieved for someone to be looking out for him, even if that someone lives inside of him. He’s relieved as Doyoung steps into his home shrugging off his coat and revealing a plunging neckline, making him swallow and Dejun quiver. He’s relieved when Doyoung’s hand lingers on his waist, guiding him to the dining table as if this was his house. He’s relieved as they begin to eat, the food delicious despite not understanding how it all was completed, until Doyoung asks what’s in the pot on the far right, the steam of its contents still rising.

_I never learned the name for it, sorry kid._

Taeil clinks his metal chopsticks against his plate. “That’s a terrific question. It’s uh… soup?”

Doyoung looks closer at the pot, mirth taking over his face. “Honey, that’s not soup,” and he’s tipping the pot over for Taeil to see the not soup, but a type of meat covered in a vibrant orange colored sauce.

Taeil closes his eyes, steeling himself for the inevitable, and also cursing out Dejun because why not. “Before this goes any further than it might, I have something to tell you.”

“Is it that you didn’t cook any of this food yourself? Because that would be fine, albeit a little funny. And cute.” Taeil opens his eyes to see Doyoung adorably scrunching up his nose, and he wants to lean across the table and boop it, but he barrels onward.

“Well, it’s more like show you.” Taeil drifts his hand to the bottom of his shirt, avoiding looking at Doyoung’s face. His shirt is slow to come up, but when it does, Dejun jingles the zipper from inside. Taeil hears an _“oh_” come from Doyoung, and he turns to observe him. There’s no disgust evident in his expression, only intrigue, and with nothing else to hold him back, it spurs Taeil to continue.

“His name’s Dejun. He only eats human flesh.”

_Tell him! Tell him I want him!_

“And I want you,” Taeil automatically tries to repeat, mentally smacking himself as Doyoung raises his eyebrows at him in amusement. “I mean Dejun wants you! Like to eat or whatever,” Taeil grumbles over Dejun cackling at his idiocy.

Doyoung doesn’t say anything, calmly gazing at him over the dishes set out. He rises from the table, Taeil’s eyes following him. “Okay,” he says casually, heading into the kitchen.

Taeil feels his insides flip, whether that’s on their own accord or Dejun doing his rounds in elation. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Taeil can hear Doyoung rummaging through his cabinets, unsure of what he was doing until he comes back with a knife and a coffee mug. Before Taeil can object, Doyoung digs the knife into his left palm, cutting a deep line through the middle and letting the glistening blood dribble into the coffee mug.

Dejun is awfully quiet throughout the process, more than likely salivating at the thought of finally having a piece of Doyoung in his mouth. The mug is slid to him, dark red barely skimming the halfway mark.

“Maybe this will tide him over.”

Taeil is almost reluctant to accept the cup, but Dejun is scratching at the inside of the zipper in a frenzy and it starts to burn. Opening up the zipper, he can physically feel Dejun sigh, and he pours the blood into the massive black cavity, Doyoung watching it disappear engrossed.

_Not quite flesh, but delicious all the same. I haven’t had someone that tasty since 1862._

_“What happened in 1862?” _Taeil questions, setting the cup back on the table and closing the zipper, aware of the way Doyoung eyes it.

_Nothing you need to worry about._

Staring at his damaged hand, Doyoung sets about the kitchen again, eventually finding the first aid kit in one of the bottom drawers and hums, “We’ll think of a better method later.”

Dejun purrs at the hint that there will be more to come, but Taeil furrows his eyebrows at the bandage wrapping around Doyoung’s hand, inquisitive.

“Why would you do all this for us?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. It doesn’t make any sense, how Doyoung could be so okay with everything, and so quickly too. For the life Taeil has lived, it’s almost unheard of, everyone putting a distance as soon as they could, but he guesses he had to get lucky at some point.

"Why not? It’s you. And he seems like a good kid." Doyoung says the last sentence in a rush, which is the only one Dejun chooses to listen to.

_I am hundreds of years old, how dare y-_

"He's great." Taeil cuts Dejun off before he starts ranting about no one respecting their elders nowadays and how it was better back when he could eat anyone just for that.

“Now that Dejun is properly fed-“ _I wouldn’t say properly, maybe appeased._ “-can I do this?” Doyoung is suddenly crowding into his space, bandaged hand cradling Taeil’s face. Taeil’s eyes widen, caught off guard, but then his lips are on Doyoung’s, hungry. They meet each other with the same enthusiasm, weeks of sexual tension built up to its head. The table bumps into Taeil’s butt, Doyoung feeling the resistance and scoops him up to place on top of it, Taeil’s legs naturally wrapping around his waist. They both push at the plates of food in the way, ignoring the clattering as the plates collided. A hand has wandered up Taeil’s shirt, Doyoung trailing kisses to his neck, and biting into the soft skin right below his ear.

It rouses Taeil into balling the shoulder of Doyoung’s shirt into a fist, his teeth scraping a fire in the pit of his stomach. Over Doyoung’s shoulder, Taeil can see into the well-lit street through one of the windows in the living room, and the sight allows him to gather his bearings, slightly pushing at Doyoung for his attention. “Wait for me in my room. Second door on the left.”

Doyoung grins, pecking Taeil on the lips one more time. “Yes sir.”

Taeil waits until he hears the door snapping shut before speaking in a lower than normal voice. “Hey… Dejun... could you like… go away for a couple of hours?”

_Gee, why didn’t I think about that all those times you sucked your boyfriend’s dick in high school? You seemed to have no shame then._

Taeil reddens at the thought of Dejun being present in the Jung Jaehyun era, filled with lots of slick chins and bruised knees. Back then, Jaehyun was a constant, in his mind and in his everyday run-of-the-mill, so not thinking about Dejun for once in his life came easy. Jaehyun was someone who didn’t care about the rotting smell occasionally surrounding Taeil, especially after explaining the curse upon his family and Dejun. However, Jaehyun going off to America for college kind of ended the thing they had going on, though not without a last blowjob in the airport car garage. Sometimes when he came back to visit, they would hook up in Taeil’s new apartment, reminiscing on the years spent together, but it stopped the moment Jaehyun called him to talk about the guy his department partnered him up with. Kun, or as Jaehyun branded him as, _the bane of my existence_, was the book definition of perfect. Perfectly mannered, perfectly followed the rules as if he ate the law for breakfast, perfect face. Jaehyun fucking hated him.

“He’s so god damn annoying with ‘Jaehyun, we have to do it like this, or Jaehyun, we have to do it like that’, I literally am going to eat him just to get him to shut up,” he huffed over the phone, and Taeil can practically see the hair always hovering above his eyes fluttering with the air breathed out.

“Dejun said he has no reservations about that.”

The next time Kun is brought up, it’s to tell him Jaehyun is bringing him back home with him, which is not surprising to Taeil. What’s also not surprising is Dejun’s initial reaction to meeting Kun, hissing in delight at his scent.

_I wouldn’t mind eating him either._

But what _is_ surprising is how Jaehyun ended up telling Kun about his little stomach issue, and much to Taeil’s chagrin, the first words out of Kun’s mouth are, “Hi, nice to meet you, can Dejun see us?” Smile frozen on his face, Taeil slowly turns his head to face Jaehyun, who to his credit, smacks Kun hard on his shoulder. “Hey! It’s a genuine question!”

Naturally, Taeil had to sit Kun down and describe the absolute hassle Dejun is, Dejun himself punching his sides in retaliation. Which is what Taeil did to Jaehyun when he eventually got him alone, another one to add to the growing list of times Taeil beat Jaehyun’s ass for some reason.

Seems like present day Taeil will have to deal with the sheer mortification full force without anything to divert his attention away from it.

Although, that flies out the window the moment Taeil opens his bedroom door. His mouth dries at the picturesque way Doyoung is lounging on his bed, head held up by his hand. He’s still fully clothed, but with the way his shirt hugs his ribs and his pants low enough to show the jutting hipbones, it’s as if he’s already bare, exposed for Taeil to see.

Doyoung beckons Taeil over, a slight crook of his finger, and Taeil is upon him within an instant, lips chasing after his in a game of want. Doyoung has him by the belt loops of his pants, bringing Taeil’s hips down to grind themselves into each other. The feeling makes Taeil gasp, allowing for Doyoung’s tongue to slip inside, velvety and sweet like the cherry coke he had been drinking. He explores the inside of his mouth like he has all the time in the world, as if they both aren’t growing restrained in their pants.

Taeil breaks away, rolling his hips in a manner that makes Doyoung dig his nails into his thighs, the slight pain encouraging the words to fall out unabashedly. “Fuck me already.”

“Your wish is my command.” Their clothes are off in record time, Doyoung lowering himself to Taeil’s thick thighs, nibbling at the inner skin. Taeil twitches at each bite, squirming harder when Doyoung’s tongue brushes near his rim.

“There’s no need for that. I already prepared myself.”

Doyoung stops his ministrations, his breath wet and hot as he mutters, “You’re so fucking hot.” It’s mere minutes before Doyoung is properly inside Taeil, one leg propped over his shoulder, the snug fit having him clasp at the sheets. Doyoung thrusting forward has the zipper jingling, their moans mixing with the tinkle of the metal against metal. Despite the haze, the sound must cut through because Doyoung speaks, not pausing the motion of his hips.

“I have a question.”

Yeah Doyoung, what a great time to ask a question. “What?” Taeil pants out, only slightly irked.

The hand in Taeil's curls tightly. “Where’s Dejun while all of this is happening?”

Taeil pats his stomach, feeling the movement of Doyoung inside of him under his fingertips. Doyoung groans, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of the way his head catches against Taeil’s rim.

“Can you tell him I said sorry?”

There’s a rumbling in his throat that isn’t from the push of Doyoung’s hips into his. _I quite like to space out in circumstances like these, think about the good old days when people were so keen on abstinence._

“He’s fine. Now can we please stop talking about my child when we are having sex?” Doyoung nods hurriedly, all too keen to move on.

Sex with Doyoung was different than sex with Jaehyun. It could have had something to do with the whole boss-employee dynamic or it could’ve been just Doyoung. But he filled all of Taeil, in the wrinkles of his skin to the roots of his hair and it has him reaching his end like no other, Doyoung squeezing his hands into his hips as he follows.

When Doyoung rolls off of him, Taeil flushes, remembering where he was at and buries himself in his pillows, pressing his hands on the other side of it for a tighter hold. Doyoung takes notice of his predicament, laying a hand over his upper back.

“What are you doing?”

“Suffocating myself so I can feel alive,” Taeil muffles out.

It sounds like Doyoung stifles a laugh, rubbing into his back as he responds, “…Dramatic, but relatable.”

Taeil sighs and releases his hold on the pillow, flipping over so he can face Doyoung head on. “I have to deal with the knowledge that Dejun was there! Here! Hearing everything!”

_You’re acting like I’m five and never heard of sex. But if I must say it, it’s quite alright. You are forgiven for being a promiscuous human._

Before Taeil can gasp and possibly punch his stomach for that comment, Doyoung speaks, having not heard Dejun.

“You’re going to have to deal with it a bit longer.” At the widening of Taeil’s eyes, he rushes to say, “If you’ll have me, of course. You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Moon.” His mouth quirks up, and Taeil can’t help but scoot closer, Dejun forgotten for the moment.

“Well, Mr. Kim, maybe I will.” Leaning in for a kiss at the same time, their noses bump into each other, and they giggle it off as they are successful the second try. Dejun snorts and settles at the bottom of Taeil’s stomach, relaxed and thrilled for his host’s future. But he’d never tell him that though, he has a guise to keep up.

**Author's Note:**

> yes taeil fucked his boss on the first date thanks
> 
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